The Fox (12 page)

“Jahna, you are like you were when the spotted lamb followed you as if you were its dam,” said Mother.

“Oh, Mother. I remember him.” The lamb needed me to care for it. Uncle Beathan said it would die, but it lived for many years. “With Lovern as my teacher, I hope to learn and be able to care for the injured and ill people of our clan and not just lambs.”

“I have thought on his being here,” said Mother. “I was not in favor of his staying at first. I have seen how he made a potion I had not heard of before that calmed the stomach illness. He is making you happy. I still wonder why the gods brought him here and what could be following him, but Beathan tells me that he is good for our people. I have decided to leave the decision in the hands of our goddess Morrigna.”

Lovern told the men and warriors at Beathan’s evening table why he left his home. All agreed that he could stay. I had not told mother that Lovern was the boy of my passage dreams or that now, if he left, I would follow.

I had much to learn. I absorbed his information about medicines, spells, and how to treat the injured and sick. I remember the Druid Ogilhinn only spoke with the tree gods and asked for help. Lovern made potions that chased away the bad spirits. Lovern was a druid and a healer with the hands of the gods touching him. We were fortunate to have him here.

But, together we could not heal Cerdic.

It was Imbolc. Darkness came early on these days. We lighted our oil lamps before our evening meals. Again, the season brought labored breathing to Mother. One night, as I followed my mother into the cool night air again, Sileas’ plea rang in my ears. I told Lovern about her request, and the next day we went to see Cerdic.

Cerdic, Harailt and Sileas lived in the home together. Harailt’s sisters were married and gone. Sileas and Harailt were outside feeding dried corn to their hogs and chickens when we arrived, but urged us to go in.

Cerdic sat on the floor near a low fire. His hands grasped the edges of a blanket that covered his shoulders. His head low, he was folded over his chest as if to protect his heart from the dampness and smoke that filled the home. An oil lamp flickered a sickly, yellow shadow across his face. His neck stretched forward and jaw jutted open. His eyes were squeezed closed and his brow furrowed with lines of strain. His deliberate breaths escaped his body in liquid groans. I kneeled next to him and Lovern in front. There was no recognition of us in Cerdic’s haggard face.

“Cerdic.” I touched his shoulder, but he did not open his eyes. “Cerdic. Why are you up? You should be lying down,” I asked.

“Can.” He stopped to inhale between every word. “Not – breathe – lying –down.”

A groan turned into an explosive cough that shook his body and sprayed blood to the dirt in front of his crossed legs. The floor was sticky with this spit. While he coughed, I rubbed his back, not knowing what else to do. I looked to Lovern. He watched Cerdic’s spasm. When the coughing eased, Cerdic reached one arm out from under the blanket and wiped the frothy blood from his lips, his eyes still closed with the concentration of his breathing. The fresh and dried blood on the sleeve of his tunic scared me. I turned to Lovern, silently asking him whether we could help. He nodded, his eyes never leaving Cerdic.

The room echoed with Cerdic’s ragged inhales and rough exhales along with the soft pops and hisses of the peat and dung fire.

“Cerdic, you know you are dying,” Lovern said.

I looked from Lovern to Cerdic my mouth open in surprise.

“How can you say that? He is a strong man, he may live through many more Samhainns,” I argued, not admitting what I had witnessed. Cerdic’s fingertips and lips were blue and stained with blood. His white face was slippery with sweat and pulled from the struggle of living, neck ropey with the battle for breath and his head bowed as if surrendering to the war for life that was being waged in his body.

“Yes,” said Cerdic, “soon.”

I looked at Cerdic, not wanting to believe. Where was the strong man I had known all my life; a farmer whose sheep produced wool that my mother and I wove? A man who was a valuable member of our clan and the father of Harailt? I did not recognize the coughing shell of a man, readying himself to cross to the spirit world. His once proud eyes did not leave the floor of his lodge.

Sileas and Harailt stepped through their doorway. I stood and moved next to Sileas, my arms around her. Harailt took my place on the floor next to his father.

“He has been this way for three nights,” said Harailt. “We have not slept, but stayed up to give him comfort. How can you help?” he asked Lovern.

“I cannot help him live. I can help him die,” said Lovern gently. He turned back to face Cerdic. “I will try to ease your breathing, to ease your crossing.”

Harailt grasped his father’s shoulders with white knuckled fingers while Sileas stiffened in my arms with an “Oh.”

Death was not unexpected nor feared by us. Our fear was a difficult passage to death, or dying alone. While we all traveled this path, no one wished to die helpless, with great pain, or alone.

Cerdic’s passage promised to be difficult. He would not give up his soul easily. He had been a stubborn man in life and I knew he would be a stubborn man in death.

“We need to move him outside. It is easier to breathe in the fresh air,” said Lovern.

I recalled my mother’s trips into the cold nights, searching for relief.

We created a fire pit outside his home, in the protection of the corn drying area. The thigh high, three-sided walled space opened into the yard of the farm. Thatch-roofed and wind-protected, it allowed Cerdic the breezes and fresh air he craved. We built a small fire to bring warmth to him. He did not need it as much as we did; his body was hot with his struggle. Wrapped in heavy cloaks, dried grasses stuffed into our shoes and hands tucked under our arms to stay warm, we sat with him day and night.

Word spread that Cerdic was dying and our neighbors and friends came. For the two cold, damp, grey days he was outside, all who had known him, hunted with him, and traded stories with him said goodbye.

Beathan’s father and Cerdic had grown up together. Cerdic helped Beathan’s father become our clan chieftain. Beathan honored Cerdic by singing songs of the days when his father and Cerdic were boys. A smile crept across Cerdic’s strained face.

Lovern went to our sacred pool with a jar and returned with some water. He asked Sileas for a dried apple which he cut into small bits. He put it in a pot, brought the water and apple to a boil, added wild garlic and the
lus mor
we gathered several days ago. The mixture was cooled and then held to Cerdic’s lips to drink for relief. When he was too weak to swallow, I dripped it from my fingers into his mouth, the way I had fed my lamb. We laid mistletoe on his chest, a piece of salted pork over it, and bound a cloth around him.

Lovern’s low murmurs and chanting were constant. He appealed to the gods of the Otherworld to make this passing, Cerdic’s dying, a kind one.

After two days, his breath came in short, torturous gasps and Lovern told us Cerdic’s death was close. Cerdic, lying on his left side, faced east, toward the sunrise and the door of the Otherworld. He could not talk. Lovern sat, touching Cerdic’s forehead. Sileas and Harailt were seated, holding his feet. I laid down behind him so my body was next to his and hugged him to me with my hand over his heart. I felt the struggle in his rapidly beating heart and shallow rising chest. I whispered in his ear over and over, timed with my calm breaths,

“Breathe in for life,

Breathe in for death,

Breathe in,

Breathe.”

Cerdic struggled less, but he still lived. His worn soul, stiff with resistance, still refused to pass. We sang and prayed to our god of all nature, Cernunnos, and our goddess of the underworld, Cerridwen.

“Oh great horned one.

Oh Cernunnos.

Oh moon goddess.

Oh Cerridwen.

Cedric is traveling to you.

Help him build his boat;

He will cross the water.

Allow him into your lodge.

Seat him next to your fire.

Share food and mead with him.

Promise him successful hunts.

Show him the treasures of your abode.

Help him make this crossing to the next world,

To his next life.”

“Cerdic. What stops you from crossing?” I whispered. He was growing restless again. My own breathing grew labored, matching his. I forced my mind to follow Lovern’s labyrinth. It was one of the things Lovern taught me. I wanted a way to ease Cerdic’s crossing of the river of death. I had never seen it done but in my heart and my mind, ideas came to me. I knew I could help. Just follow the labyrinth’s path.

I whispered, “Cerdic. Who do you want to see on the other side?” All the animals in the farmyard quieted as if to hear his answer. Even the birds in the trees were silent.

I prayed to Corra, the goddess of the underworld crossings, and a vision came to my eyes. At the end of the labyrinth’s path, Cerdic stood at the edge of the rushing, black river, looking to the other shore. He saw darkness. He was afraid. No one was there to meet him. In my vision, I brought his wife into my mind, Machara, as I remembered her when I was young. She stood on the opposite shore of the river. Whispering to him, I gave the vision to Cerdic.

“Open your mind Cerdic. Breathe and open your mind. Let me in to show you.” I felt a small release in the tension of his shoulders. “There, Cerdic, she is there. Machara is waiting for you. She will help you across the river. It is safe for you to go now. Go with Corra and Machara in peace. You will be well there and breathe with ease. You will be young and in love again. You will own many sheep and have many cups of mead to drink. We who remain here will sing your song and remember you in our stories. You are free to go, Cerdic. You are free to follow Machara.”

His struggle softened, then his racing heart stopped beating under my hand, and welcome tears of relief fell from my eyes. A few moments after Cerdic stopped his struggle for breath, Lovern came to me and helped me up. I was drained. It was as if I had carried Cerdic across the river myself. Lovern carried me to a cot to rest while Harailt and Sileas took care of Cerdic’s body.

“You have done well, my love,” said Lovern. “You have found your gift.”

Lovern, Sileas and Harailt later told me Cerdic smiled just as his soul passed.

The hogs began to root again. The sky grew dark with another rainstorm.

Cerdic, buried with the others of our clan, lay in a meadow below the sacred pool.

Soon after Cerdic’s death, Harailt and Sileas had gone to Beathan during a clan council, and asked that they be released from raising sheep.

“I will give my sheep to Crannog, my neighbor, in exchange for food for three years,” Harailt said. “He has a good pasture and they will do well. The clan will still get their wool. I have told him he can use my land to grow food for us and corn for his hogs. We will have no time to work it now.”

“WHAT?” I was sure Beathan’s bellow was heard across the lake.

Sileas stood proudly next to her husband Harailt, and in a quiet tone said, “I had a dream, my chieftain. I dreamt that Cerdic came back. He stood next to our firepit and looked around the home where he raised his children. I was in bed but sat up as I saw him standing there. He looked at me and there was a spark in his eyes. He spoke with me.”

“‘This is to be the place all in need will be carried. For those who require healing and for those who are dying. Our gods and goddesses will be close here, ready to offer their spirit. The druid will be here. Jahna will be here. You and my son Harailt will be here. All will be doing the work of the gods and goddesses. There will be no more sheep raised here, only praises to the otherworld. Lovern will heal and Jahna will aid the eventual passing of all. Bel and Morrigna send this message. It is through this work that our clan will be allowed to carry its bloodline into the future. Heed this message or all will be lost.’”

“We must do what he told us or Morrigna and Bel will be angry. The morning after this dream, a flock of crows, at least one hundred strong, came into our yard. Many saw them circle our abode and land in our trees.” There was a murmur of agreement from the people at the council table.

“They sat quietly,” she continued, “for a short time, while Harailt and I looked out our door at them. We fully expected them to eat the corn we stored for our hogs but instead they sat and stared at us as we watched them. I finally understood they were waiting for our answer and I yelled out our doorway for them to take the message to Morrigna that we would do as she commanded. As they all lifted off at once, a wind was raised that carried the smell of new cut grass. I knew we had done what was asked.”

Beathan looked at Sileas and Harailt as if the crows had just landed on their heads. His face grew red and his hand clenched the short sword lying in front of him until his knuckles turned white. Beathan turned to Lovern and I as we stood listening. Harailt had bidden us to be with them while he and Sileas made this request. It must have been because they thought I would bring favor to them, being Beathan’s niece. I wondered if this was a safe place to be at this moment, Uncle or not.